The Ghost Light
by Eponine Sparrow
Summary: "A popular theatrical superstition holds that every theater has a ghost, and some theaters have traditions to appease ghosts. Similar superstitions hold that ghost lights provide opportunities for ghosts to perform onstage, thus appeasing them and preventing them from cursing the theater or sabotaging the set or production." FULL SUMMARY INSIDE!
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:**

**"A popular theatrical superstition holds that every theater has a ghost, and some theaters have traditions to appease ghosts. Similar superstitions hold that ghost lights provide opportunities for ghosts to perform onstage, thus appeasing them and preventing them from cursing the theater or sabotaging the set or production."**

** The Opera Populaire has its infamous Phantom of the Opera, yet hidden in the walls of the theatre is a ghost light. This will ' o' the wisp has more secrets than anyone knows even exist. Secrets that could destroy Christine Daae. So naturally, the Opera Ghost would want to destroy this 'Ghost Light', but will he be in for more than he can handle? And how is this ghost light connected to Madame Giry?**


	2. Chapter 2

Prologue:

She looked down at the paper before her.

She had painted.

Is that not what _he _had wanted? Is that not what _he _had been forcing her to do?

_He _was not pleased.

_They _had wanted more from her. More art. More ensembles. More singing.

More.

More.

More.

_They_ were too greedy.

_They_ always were, but _they_ wouldn't let her go.

She was lost.

Alone.

When she didn't do as she was told, she was locked away.

Or worse.

Juliette ran her shaking hands through her hair in exhaustion.

She had to get away.

She _had _to escape.

Juliette stood and slammed her fists against the small mirror in her cell, the crystalline glass shattering around her.

Her bleeding fingers reached for a rather large chunk of glass, and she began to saw away at the door.

It had to work. It had to.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 1:

Christine Daae walks silently to the cemetery. Her long chocolate curls swirl around her in the winter wind. Today is the funeral of her father, Gustave Daae. Christine shivers and pulls her black cloak closer to her body as the wind whips violently around her.

She looks up suddenly as the cathedral bells chime that it is now precisely ten o clock. Christine then fixes her gaze upon the cemetery. She stops abruptly, her bright blue eyes filling with tears. "I cannot go in there Madame." Christine whispers, her voice trembling with fear.

Madame Giry puts and arm on Christine's shoulder and signals for her daughter, Meg, to stop as well. "Christine, dear, this is your father's funeral. You must go," she spoke gently.

Christine looks up at Madame Giry, sadly, "But Madame, I am afraid."

Madame Giry knelt down to look Christine in the eye, "Of what, dear?"

"That the same thing that happened to Papa will happen to me. And it will be so final!" Christine cried, "If I go then it makes it true! Papa is dead! And if I go then I cannot pretend that it is a horrible nightmare!"

Madame Giry wrapped her arms around Christine's small figure, "You must say goodbye, dear."

Christine nodded, "I-I know. I just don't want to."

Meg walked forward to her quite recently made friend, "Christine, it will be okay." Meg hugged Christine tightly.

Christine looked at her friend and let forth a small smile, "Thank you, Meg."

Meg nodded and slipped her hand in Christine's.

"Come now, we must attend the funeral." Madame Giry led the two young girls through the gates of the cemetery. The trio walked slowly through the labyrinth of graves, and suddenly stopped.

Xx

"Today, we will honor the life of Gustave Daae. A wonderful man. He was a father, and musician. Quite a well-known musician."

The pastor went on saying famous quotes, reciting pieces from the bible, and murmuring prayers, but Christine was not listening. Christine could only stare at the coffin resting a little ways away from her. Her father was lying inside that casket. Dead. Someone had killed her Papa. But who? Who would do something like that.

Christine couldn't understand, or wrap her mind around it. Her life had changed so much in only a few days. Her Papa had been killed. Madame Giry had taken her in, and now Christine would now be a ballet student at the Opera Populaire. How could so much happen? How?

"Christine." Madame Giry was looking at Christine.

"W-what?"

"It is time to go."

"Okay," Christine answered in a small voice.

She looked once more at the coffin and swallowed the lump in her throat. She followed Madame Giry out of the cemetery. Paris looked so different. It was bleak. Empty. Paris no longer held the beautiful and mystical feeling that it had once had for her. It was now, just a town. Just a place. It was not the magnificent city that her father had told her that it was. It was simply a city. A place were murderers dwelled.

"We are here," Meg told Christine. Christine looked up at the Opera Populaire. It was beautiful. Like a palace. Maybe there was still something that could be pleasant about Paris.

Christine trailed behind Meg and took in the beauty of the opera house. She followed the Giry's into the building, quietly. Madame Giry walked up to a strange man, "Monsieur Lefevre, I have a favor to ask of you."

The man looked at Madame Giry confusedly, "Oui, of course, what is it?"

"Monsieur, it is the child," Madame Giry looked back at Christine who turned her eyes to the floor, "Christine Daae. Gustave's daughter."

"Oh, oui, the violinist's child. I heard about his passing. Quite a tragedy."

"Oui, Monsieur. She is so young. I wondered if she could study with the ballet girls?"

The manager glanced at Christine thoughtfully, "How old is the child?"

Madame Giry wrung her hands wearily, "She is but eleven years of age Monsieur."

"Eleven?"

"Oui. She is quite young, so she could be taught."

"To be a ballet dancer?"

"Oui."

Monsieur Lefevre looked at Christine, "She is quite delicate in appearance. Has the build of a dancer. I suppose that she could study with us."

"Merci Monsieur!"

"But, you must be in charge of her."

"Of course, thank you!"

"You are quite welcome. Now that you are back, you need to begin ballet lessons."

"Alright Monsieur, thank you."

Monsieur Lefevre turned and left.

Madame Giry turned back to the two young girls behind her, "Meg, go dress for rehearsal."

"Oui, Mama." Meg turned on her heels and walked deeper into the opera house.

"Christine, dear, you are going to be studying here, at the Opera Populaire."

Christine tentatively looked into Madame Giry's face, "Here?"

"Yes, you will be training to be a ballet dancer."

"Okay."

Madame Giry led Christine to the stage, "Today, you may just watch, okay?"

"Yes."

"Sit her dear." Christine nodded and sat at the edge of the stage and watched the ballet girls dance for hours.

Xx

"Okay girls, you are done for today, go rest." Madame Giry turned back to Christine as she heard the usual gossip from her girls begin. "Come Christine, we will eat dinner now."

"Okay."

Madame Giry began to turn of the lights one by one, but then she lit a single lantern and placed it in the middle of the stage.

"What is that for, Madame Giry?"

Madame Giry's face momentarily turned ashen grey. "Christine, that is for _her."_

_"Her?" _

"Oui."

Madame Giry did not elaborate her statement, she only grabbed Christine's hand and led her away from the stage.

_"Christine."_

Xx

It was after midnight and the air was cold. Snow littered the ground and it fell still. A solitary figure walked inside the cemetery. Her black cloak was wrapped tightly around her and her hair swirled around her shoulders in the wind. Her footsteps made no sound and her presence would only be known from the small footprints she made.

She shivered, but continued on. She walked up to a grey stone and knelt down in the snow before it. Snowflakes collected on her eyelashes and she blinked in an attempt to brush them away.

"I am sorry." she whispered, but to who or what she was speaking, not a soul would ever know. Her delicate fingers placed a single black rose upon the snow, over Gustave Daae's grave.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 2:

**I would like to thank: icanheartthedrums, lydiathetigeropean, RedDeathLvr, and Mia-Purdy for their lovely reviews. they make my day! Thanks again, and in this chapter, you'll find out why this is called The Ghost Light. :D**

Christine awakened with a start, shimmery cerulean tears dripped from her blue eyes. This was the twelfth night in a row that she had woken up crying. She simply could not sleep since her papa had died. She clutched her blankets and sobbed into them. Her papa was dead and gone.

"Papa!" She managed to cry in a tight, strangled voice. The sobs were so powerful that they rocked her small frame. A figure stirred in the bed beside hers and a flash of blonde hair swirled around her shoulders. She lit a candle quickly.

"Christine?" Meg called softly to her knew friend. Meg received no reply but the sound of increasing sobbing.

"Oh Christine." Meg's pale hand lifted off her covers and she walked over to Christine's bed. She gently sat upon the bed and wrapped her slender arms around Christine. Christine bowed her head in shame of crying, though she couldn't stop. Her first night here and she cried uncontrollably! No one would want her!

"M-M-Meg! I-I'm S-Sorry!" Christine took a sharp intake of breath each time that she tried to speak.

Meg wrapped her arms tighter around Christine and began to hum quietly. "Shh, it's alright Christine, it's alright." Meg continued to comfort Christine when they hear something.

Footsteps.

Meg, startled, sat up quickly, "Christine, d-d-did you hear that?"

Christine wiped her red-rimmed eyes with a pale hand, "No, what was it?"

"Footsteps" Meg silently got off the bed and crept to the door.

"Meg, we'll get in trouble," Christine's sobs had stopped, finally.

"No one is supposed to be up this late, Christine. We need to investigate!"

Christine slowly crept toward Meg, "Who do you think that it is?"

Meg smiled at Christine, "Maybe it's the Phantom of the Opera!"

Christine gasped, and then Meg's face paled again, "Or _her._"

"Who's _her_?"

Meg looked behind her fearfully before turning to Christine, "Promise Mama that you won't tell."

"Oui, of course."

Meg sighed, "Well, there once was a girl named Elizabeth. She came here during the Revolution. You see, her uncle was French and worked here, at the Opera Populaire."

"Wait, you said that Elizabeth's uncle was French like us. Was Elizabeth not?"

Meg shook her head, "No, she was British."

Christine nodded, "Oh."

"Well, you see, at that time, we really didn't like British people, some still don't. Anyway, Elizabeth was five years old and very talented. She sounded like a full-grown soprano lady-"

"Like Senora Carlotta?"

Meg shook her head, "Better than Senora Carlotta."

Christine opened her mouth in awe, "Go on!"

Meg nodded, "Well, her uncle cast her in an opera and she was very successful. However, one night, a French singer named Madame DiVois who was jealous of her, murdered her upon discovering that she was British."

Christine gasped, "But she was so young!"

Meg nodded solemnly. "She..._her _spirit haunts this theatre. We leave on the _ghost light _so that she can perform on her own at night. Strange things happen if we don't leave it on. We do not want her spirit to turn murderous toward us!"

Christine had paled immensely, "But she was only five years old. Surely a young child, even if she were a ghost, would not kill."

Meg just looked at Christine, "Maybe. But some...violent things _have _happened before in the Opera Populaire, Christine. We would prefer them to not happen at all. SO we leave on the light in hopes that she will let us be, and she can perform at night, alone."

Christine was thrilled that Meg had finally told her. Everyone had been very secretive about _her. _However, The Phantom of the Opera? This she had not yet heard of. Who was he? Christine decided not to try her luck and ask now.

Christine urged Meg to open the door. Meg's shaking hand slowly reached for the doorknob. She was nervous and after telling Christine about _her_, she did not dare speak _her _name again. Meg had grown anxious and silently opened the door a crack. She looked both ways before she opened the door wider and turned to Christine. Meg put her finger to her lips and gestured for Christine to follow. The two stepped lightly into the long hallway containing the dormitories for the ballet girls.

X

Meg led Christine silently through the theatre. Christine jumped at a creak and clutched Meg's arm. "The theatre is just old, Christine," Meg whispered.

Christine nodded, but kept her grip firm on Meg's arm. Slowly, the two approached the stage and they could clearly see the light. It was after midnight by now and the two girls shivered in fear. Meg continued walking until she was only a few feet away from the light. Christine stopped beside her.

"What now?" Christine whispered.

Suddenly, the two girls saw a shadow in the darkness. They jumped and hugged each other in fright.

"Eliz-Elizabe-beth? Is that y-you?" Meg queried in fear. They could no longer see the shadow, but they sensed it's presence. The two stood in silence for a moment more before a sound resounded through the empty theatre.

"No."

The two jumped. The voice sounded light and kind. It was indefinitely feminine and the two relaxed, through they could not see who had spoken.

Christine gathered her courage, "Who are you?"

There was no response and Meg was still quite frightened. "Christine, I'm going back to bed! You should come too!"

Christine hugged Meg, "It's alright Meg. You go back to bed, I'll be there in a moment."

How Christine had gone from sniveling and crying to being brave for her friend, even Christine will never know. But bravery flowed in her veins, nonetheless.

Meg started, "But Christine, I don't think-"

"It will be fine, Meg. I promise."

Meg swallowed a lump in her throat and turned and then ran back to the room she shared with Christine. Christine turned back to the light, slightly nervous.

"Why did you send her away?" the voice asked curiously.

"Are you my Angel of Music?" Christine asked hopefully. Her papa had told her that he would send her the Angel of Music after her died, and her father _was_ dead now.

The voice said nothing for a moment before it sounded again, startling Christine, "I am _an _Angel of Music."

Christine did not know what the voice meant, "Does that mean that you are _my _angel?"

"I could be. In time."

Christine smiled.

"But I also could not. It all depends. Maybe another angel will come to you, Christine."

Christine nodded, confused, "Sing for me, Angel?"

Christine heard nothing before a sweet voice filled the room:

**_"Alouette, gentille Alouette_**

**_Alouette je te plumerai_**

**_Alouette, gentille Alouette_**

**_Alouette je te plumerai_**

**_Je te plumerai la tête_**

**_Je te plumerai la têteEt_**

**_la tête, et la tête_**

**_Alouette,_**

**_Alouette_**

**_O-o-o-o-oh_**

**_Alouette, gentille Alouette_**

**_Alouette je te plumerai_** **_Alouette, gentille Alouette_**

**_Alouette je te plumera_**

**_iAlouette, gentille Alouette_**

**_Alouette je te plumerai_**

**_Je te plumerai_**

**_le nez Je te plumerai l_**

**_e nez Et le nez, et_**

**_le nez_**

**_Alouette,_**

**_Alouette_**

**_O-o-o-o-oh_**

**_Alouette, gentille Alouette_**

**_Alouette je te plumerai"_**

Christine was feeling rather sleepy. The voice, or rather, her Angel had sung her a lullaby.

"Sleep Christine."

"Will you teach me?"

There was no reply, but Christine found herself sleepily walking back to her room. When Christine opened the door, she found Meg already sleeping. She smiled at her friend. Just as Christine was about to climb into her own bed, she heard a voice.

_"Christine."_

It was a male voice. Christine slowly sat on her bed, "Who's there?"

_"Your Angel of Music has come, Christine."_

Christine fell silent. She climbed into bed robotically. This was too confusing. That girl on the stage had said that she was an Angel of Music, but whoever this was said that he was _her _Angel of Music. Christine, confused fell to sleep.

X

Juliette sighed as she stood on the empty stage of the Opera Populaire. That had been close. She had almost been discovered. Juliette smoothed down her hair nervously.

Why had she told Christine that she was an Angel of Music? She was not. Christine would assume that she was _her _Angel of Music! What would she do? Juliette clasped her hands tightly and frowned. She had been quite cryptic with Christine. Maybe Christine would not understand?

X

A cloaked figure smiled through the wall. Why he had told Christine that he was her Angel, he did not even know. But he knew that he could tutor her. He smiled as he turned and strode back down the passage to his lair.

X

The two _ghosts _went back to their homes completely unaware of each other. Neither of them knowing that the other was Christine's _Angel._ Neither of them knowing of the other's presence. Neither of them knowing of each other's intentions, which were as different as night and day.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 3:

A month had passed since Christine Daae had been visited by her _angels. _She had finally begun to fall into the routine of a ballet girl. She finally felt normal, and like she belonged. Meg had turned into an excellent companion. Meg was quite loyal and kind, she was always there to talk to.

Meg pranced around the stage in her pink ballet slippers, "Christine! Come on!" she giggled.

Christine smiled and pirouetted before skipping over to her friend, "What is it?"

"Look at that!"

Christine peered around the large column that was a part of the set for the currently running opera. Backstage was dark and shadowy. Meg was carefully tip-toeing toward something. "Look!"

Christine followed Meg's gaze to see a small, china doll. Christine gingerly picked it up and brushed hair away from the doll's face. What Christine saw, startled her greatly. The doll was pale, almost like a ghost, and had delicately blushing cheeks, bright robin's-egg blue eyes with long, thick dark lashes. The lips were perfectly curved little pink petals, and were bow-like. The little figurine had long, chocolate ringlets cascading to her waist.

However, the part that frightened Christine Daae the most was the doll's attire. The doll was dressed in a satin pink dressing gown with white ballet slippers. Christine looked down to see that she matched the doll, or rather, the doll matched her. The features of the doll's face were the same as her own, down to every last detail.

Meg dared to speak first, "It...it looks exactly like you."

Christine nodded, stunned, "It does, but who could have made it?"

Then a thought occurred to her. Her Angel of Music! He must have crafted the small toy for her! he must have been watching her, and known that she had no dolls to play with.

"I think that a friend gave it to me," Christine smiled slightly.

Meg frowned in concentration, "But who?"

"An angel."

Meg opened her mouth to reply, when a rather large hand clapped down on her shoulder. She jumped up with fright.

"What-ah, are you two-ah gamines ah-doing!" **(Sorry if it's difficult to understand. I'm trying to capture Carlotta in my own way.)**

Christine spoke up, "Nothing Senora! We were just...just...um..." she trailed off nervously.

"What I-ah thought! You were wasting my-ah time!"

"But Senora! We were just-"

"Just? Just-ah? You two are insolent-"

"That is quite enough Senora Carlotta." Madame Giry appeared next to the two cowering children.

Carlotta smirked, "These two are unprofessional! They make mistakes which-ah make me-ah look bad!"

"They are in training." Madame Giry replied with finality. She led the two young ballerinas into the dormitory. The two children sat on Meg's bed and looked down at the floor, as naughty children would avoid their mother's angry look.

"What did you two do to anger Senora?"

Meg swallowed nervously, "We did nothing Maman! Senora Carlotta came up behind us and frightened us!"

Madame Giry nodded once, "Is this the truth, Christine?"

Christine nodded solemnly, "Yes Madame, it is the truth."

"Stay in here, while I talk to Carlotta then. Do _not _wander off or get into more trouble."

Meg and Christine nodded together.

"Very well, then." Madame Giry turned and left the room, closing the door silently behind her.

Christine looked up at Meg, "Why does Carlotta hate us?"

Meg shook her head, "Carlotta hates everyone."

Christine sighed, "Does she?"

Meg nodded. Then a cheeky grin stretched across her face, "These two are unprofessional!" she mocked.

Christine grinned, "They make mistakes which-ah make me-ah look bad!" Christine finished, twisting her words to sound like Carlotta.

The two fell back on the bed laughing.

* * *

**_Several hours of ballet dancing later..._**

Christine jumped face-first upon her bed. "I don't understand why your maman makes us work so hard!" Christine groaned.

Meg sighed, "So we'll be excellent dancers, perhaps?"

"Perhaps so, Meg! So, do you think that we'll be ready for the performance?"

Christine heard no reply, so she looked over to see her friend, Margeaux Giry fast asleep. Christine smiled at her friend's blond curls falling into her face as she slept.

_"Christine."_

"Angel? Is it you?"

_"It is I, Christine. Your Angel of Music."_

Christine smiled, "Angel! Will you teach me? Please!"

Christine's angel said nothing for a moment. Christine's smile wavered and fell as she waited, thinking that her angel would not tutor her.

"I am sorry if I was too forward Angel-" she started.

_"Go to the Prima Donna's dressing room mirror."_

Christine gasped in horror, "Senora Carlotta would kill me!"

_"She will not know, my child."_

Christine, though nearly paralyzed with fear, obeyed her angel. She crept down the hall silently, refusing to look at the stage where the light set up for _her _sat.

Christine stopped outside the door to Carlotta's dressing room. She took a deep breath and opened the door. She walked into the dark room and closed the door behind her. She walked up to the mirror and waited.

_"Christine."_

Christine started at the sudden voice. "You frightened me, my angel!"

_"I apologize. Now my child, what shall you sing for me?"_

Christine nervously started singing 'Alouette' timidly. When she finished, she wrapped her arms around herself, nervously.

_"Very good, Christine. Your voice is fair, but needs much improvement. We will begin daily lessons. Every morning precisely at six, here, in front of this mirror."_

Christine smiled, greatly relieved, "Oh think you Angel! Thank you!"

And so Christine had begun her lessons with the Phantom of the Opera, though no one yet knew that that was what he, indeed, was.

Christine did grow as a musician quite wonderfully, and her beauty grew as well. However, a sad fact that must be noted by the reader at this time, is that this moment is, perhaps, one of the last few moments of Christine Daae's innocence. Her innocence and humbleness withered away in the years yet to come during her ascent to Prima Donna. Her kindness would wither away to a petty attitude of arrogance.

* * *

**An hour after midnight, the night of Christine's first lesson...**

The _Angel of Music _walked out of the Prima Donna's dressing room. His first lesson with Christine had been successful. She trusted him! And he could teach her to sing properly! The Angel, whom we shall refer to as Erik, because this was his given name, was overcome with glee. A happiness that he had never in his life known before. A smile stretched across Erik's face, which was masked on one half by a white porcelain mask. He walked swiftly over to one of his secret entrances when he stumbled into something.

That something had tumbled to the floor. Erik, surprised that another soul was up at this hour, cautiously leaned toward the small figure. The figure brushed a black cape from around their face and Erik gasped at what he saw. It was a young girl with slightly tanned skin and a black dress on. Her blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders and covered her face. She could not have been more than eight years of age.

Erik knelt before the young girl, who remained still and silent.

"What is your name, child?"

The girl replied in a muffled voice, "Fantine."

Erik pursed his lips, "What on earth are you doing in the Opera House at this hour?"

The young girl gathered her cloak around her, "Business."

"Business?" Erik was amused by this young girl's cheekiness. Whoever could she be? "What kind of business must you take care of?" Erik decided to humor the small girl.

"A serious kind," Fantine replied icily. Her entire demeanor had changed, and now, despite her age and size, she seemed quite threatening.

Erik sighed and helped the small girl up. The girl pulled the hood of her cloak over her face, which was already hidden in shadow. Erik grasped her wrist gently, yet firmly, and led her into the streets of Paris, away from his Opera House.

The girl said not a single word during the entire journey to the center of Paris. Curiosity blossomed in our Phantom. He could not fathom what a child was doing in his theatre! She was not a ballet rat, for he knew each member of the theatre. He stopped in front of the wrought iron gate and swallowed nervously. He tilted his black hat over the right side of his face to hide the mask that he wore, so as to not arouse suspicion upon himself. He gathered courage and approached the house beyond the gate.

Erik knocked loudly on the door of Paris' best policeman, Inspector Bastaille. Erik shivered slightly, as he was quite nervous around policeman. They inquired too much, something that he certainly did not need.

A sleepy and disheveled Inspector Bastaille opened the door. "Bonjour?"

"Bonjour Inspector. I found a lost child in the Paris Opera House."

The Inspector's eyes widened, "Indeed? In the Opera Populaire? Well, thank you Monsieur, I shall return her to where she surely belongs." Bastaille put an arm on her forearm and Erik turned to depart.

"Please Monsieur!" The child, Fantine, cried for the first time. Erik froze, but did not turn. How could he, a deformed freak, help a young girl? "Please! Do not let him take me! Please!" she begged, fear in her voice.

Erik shook his head, not quite knowing what to do, "Au revoir Fantine." He then walked back to the Opera House.

* * *

What Erik however, did not know was that this child was not as she seemed at all. In fact, she was Christine's former _Other Angel. _This young girl, who introduced herself as Fantine, was not a Fantine at all.

The child, angrily thrashed in Inspector Bastaille's iron grip. She simply could not be caught again. Not by _him_, of all people!

"You won't get away this time!" he shouted, smacking her across the face.

She stopped moving and fell limp, to the ground. The reader will have probably guessed that yes indeed, Fantine, and the Angel are the same person, and that is, indeed, Juliette.

Juliette, who had become fascinated with books at a young age, as books were her only friend and her only solace from her lonely, horrid life, recently had become obsessed with a character from Victor Hugo's _Les Miserables._ That character was Fantine. She had chosen Fantine, the beautiful woman who gave everything for her child. Fantine was her only mother, the only mother that she had ever known. She called herself Fantine because it was the only thing that she could do in order to have her own mother, in her own way. She could pretend.

Bastaille ripped the blonde wig off of Juliette's head and let her true hair color cascade down her back. Juliette paled and tears pricked her eyes.

Fantine. She had called herself Fantine. La Blonde. Juliette had dreamed of such beautiful hair, and so she had acquired the wig. Fantine was her name because of the golden curls that had framed her face. But Fantine was ripped away with the wig, and all that was left was Juliette. Juliette: A motherless gamine.

And Erik, though he did not, and would not know for many years what he had done, had started something that he would forever regret.

Juliette was dragged away, screaming as she was pulled in front of the building from which she had escaped a year earlier. And a horrific chain of events began that night.

* * *

**Okay, the ending might have been a bit dark... And yes, Christine is going to probably be a brat. I LOVE Christine/Erik, don't get me wrong, but in order for this to work, she has to be a bit bratty. And yes, I gave Meg a full name, though I will still mostly refer to her as Meg. The next chapter will take place years later. PLEASE REVIEW!**

**~Eponine~**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 4:

**Four Years Later:**

Christine smoothed down her slave girl costume as she sat dramatically on her bed. "Meg, that was horrific."

Meg shook her head at Christine and closed the door to their shared room. "I don't know if I would say 'horrific' Christine. It wasn't all that bad." Meg turned to the mirror in their room and began taking pins out of her curly blonde hair. She took out the decorated headpiece before setting it on the vanity. She glanced back at her friend in the mirror before turning to face her. "Shouldn't you be getting ready for bed. You did say that it was a trying day."

Christine scoffed, "Not trying. I said horrific. Are you daft Meg?" Meg said nothing. She simply sighed and began to take off her ballet slippers. She rubbed her aching feet before she looked back up at Christine. "Should you not be getting ready to retire for the night?" Meg asked quietly.

Christine looked up at Meg and nodded. She took off her headpiece and sat in on the bed. She then stood and took off her costume before setting it beside the headpiece. She slipped on her dressing gown and sat back on the bed. She then yawned, "Oh Meg, I'm so tired. Would you mind?" Christine gestured to her costume. Meg sighed and nodded. She turned to the dresser and rooted through the top drawer for her dressing gown. She grabbed it and slipped it over her arm before gathering up Christine's costume.

"I'll be back in a moment Christine." Christine made no acknowledgement of Meg, so Meg turned and left their room. She turned to go down the hall were all the dressing rooms were. She noted that all the lights were out and it was extremely dark. She shivered and opened the ballerinas' dressing room door. Her eyes immediately went to the candle flickering on the vanity. Meg smiled. Her mother must have left it there for her. Meg went over to the clothing racks and sifted through the dozens of costumes for the ones for Hannibal. She smiled and placed Christine's next to the other slave costumes. She then undressed and hung up her own costume before placing the headpieces on the correct rack. Meg then slipped on her pink dressing gown, the satin fabric feeling cold against her skin. She tied the gown around her before lifting the candle off of the vanity and leaving the dressing room.

Meg started down the hall when she felt a warm breeze. Odd. She walked past the prima donna's dressing room and walked on stage. The ghost light was placed in the center of the stage. Meg shivered when she saw a shadow flit across the stage.

"Elizabeth?" she whispered. Meg was met with a warm, girlish giggling.

"Of course not," the voice replied. Meg relaxed and followed the figure to a ladder. "Well, be careful," the voice warned.

Meg blew out her candle and followed the figure up the ladder and out onto the rooftop. She gazed In awe at the starry sky.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Meg glanced up at the figure and smiled, "Juliette."

Juliette grinned and made her way over to Meg. "Meg, it's been awhile, has it not?"

Meg flung her arms around the smaller girl's neck, "Yes it has!"

Juliette laughed, "Someone missed me."

Meg looked at Juliette, "Of course. Are you sure that it's safe for you here?"

Juliette shrugged, "I've been here for awhile. Not a soul has noticed me. Well, not as me at least."

Meg's eyes widened in amusement, "You were the one that scared the new girls!" Meg laughed, "They thought it was Elizabeth's ghost!"

Juliette nodded, "Maybe I should not have been out on stage that late at night though."

Meg shook her head, "Where did you go?"

Juliette put a finger to her lips, "That is a story for another time."

Meg nodded, knowing that she would get nowhere with her friend. "Maman will want to see you."

Juliette nodded, "So you've befriended the Daae girl?"

Meg paled slightly, sensing Juliette's mood, "Oui."

Juliette's face darkened, "You might want to watch out for her. She's not-" Juliette glanced over at one of the statues on the roof. "I must go. I'll find you, Meg." Juliette disappeared into the darkness.

Meg frowned at her strange friend's behavior. She turned and left the rooftop, quietly. Christine would definitely wonder where she was. Meg climbed carefully down the ladder and crept back to her room. Meg opened the door to her room and closed it silently.

"Where have you been?" Christine asked.

Meg jumped, "Sorry, Maman wanted to talk for a moment."

Christine sighed, "Why must your mother make me dance so hard?" Christine whined.

Meg sighed and sat on her own bed, "To make you a better dancer," Meg answered sleepily. She put her head on her pillow and pulled her blankets over her body.

"I'm not a dancer, I'm a prima donna!" Christine exclaimed.

Meg sighed, "Shh, you will wake everyone up. And Carlotta is the prima donna Christine, like it or not."

Meg was nearly asleep by now after an exhausting day. Sleep had already fogged her brain, so she couldn't be sure if Christine had really said it or if it had been her imagination. But Meg thought that Christine had murmured, "Not for long."

* * *

**I'm sorry that it wasn't that long. But this is where the real story begins. If I get five reviews, I'll put how Meg knows Juliette into next chapter! ;)**

**~Eponine**


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